Morning After
by Aeris9919
Summary: A sidefic to 'Stage Presence' following chapter 20. Roy and Al wake up after a night of interesting developments. Written from Roy's point of view. Rated for yaoi and implied rape.


I've been sitting on this fic for a while now. Remember in chapter 21, when Al and Roy showed up to practice completely hung over and irritated with one another? This is why! So this is, I guess, chapter 20.5. I hope you guys like it, especially you spaqualad fans! XD

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans.

Warning: Yaoi and implied rapage. Don't read if this stuff annoys you. Seriously. I no like flames.

* * *

Morning After

Chp. 20.5

It was always unnerving to wake up in front of a fish tank. The memories from the prior night would return to you in a flash, and you couldn't help but wonder if each gill-faced, bubble-breather had caught themselves a show. Of course, these are just the musings of a groggy mind. I'm sure once I peeled myself from the covers, and had a cup of coffee and maybe a shower, my mind will have forgotten the prying fish.

But at 7:45, with a tank full of angel fish not but five feet away, I couldn't help but wonder if they were an enthusiastic audience.

A warm body shifted into my embrace, a few unintelligible mutters sounding before the room once again fell silent. I glanced down at Al's sleeping form, and am instantly reminded of the cause of my early morning paranoia. Last night flooded into my memory, and as I caught glances of the bottles littering the floor, I knew we were in for a world of pain. I grimaced at the thought, knowing that the moment I stood I would be back on my knees, hoping to hit the toilet and not the hardwood floors.

I traded looks between Al and the clock, wincing as I remembered we had practice in an hour. I racked my brain, trying to recall what could have driven us to drink on a Sunday night.

"I shouldn't have called you last night," the smaller man spoke, guilt and pain laced in his voice. "I knew what was going to happen."

I caught his dark eyes peeking up at me, and I attempted my best at an encouraging smile.

"And you think I didn't?"

It was as much of an answer I could muster, and he accepted that, nodding as he burrowed deeper into the covers.

I didn't announce anything as I silently stood, making my way slowly towards the bathroom. Leaning heavily against the counter, I inspected myself in the mirror, ignoring his dark eyes as they followed my movements. I knew he still felt guilty, and a part of me wanted to blame him for the pounding sensation in my skull. But it had only been a few days ago when I had been pulling him into a dark corner, seeking comfort of my own.

Comfort? Is that what he had been looking for last night? Or had he just needed some company in bed?

I hadn't thought to ask. I probably never would. It was part of our unspoken relationship: don't ask, and most certainly never tell.

Rubbing fiercely at my eyes, I stepped into the shower blindly, twisting the knobs, and letting the icy water slam into me. Instantly, I was jolted awake, but the numbing water did nothing to ease my headache. It only took a moment for steam to billow from the shower, and I revealed in the feeling of the blistering water against my skin. My life had been a constant search for escape; never had I wanted to face the realities of the world around me.

That was how _he_ had found me two years ago, alone, broken, _dependent._

I wasn't proud of my past, at least not the most recent of it. But Gotham was different from California, and it wasn't difficult for someone to fall through the cracks.

"Roy?"

His voice was timid, a shy comparison to his more dominant moments in our friendship. Memories of him standing over me, his chest heaving, eyes darkened with anger fly back to me, and a strange smile graces my lips.

"Yeah?"

"I made some coffee, if you want some."

"I'll be out in a second."

He didn't leave right after my answer, instead pausing for a few seconds. There were a number things he could have been waiting for, all of which I wanted desperately to avoid. At night, when the darkened clouds hid the watching moon, it was easy to forget who we were, and what we represented. But when morning came we were friends, sharing light conversation over coffee before the day was started.

I'm not sure when this arrangement stopped working for me, or for Al. Change had never been easy for me though, so for now I was fighting to keep things as they were. Falling in love, at this point, was beyond clichéd. But it was dangerous, and I knew it would never fan out peacefully.

I let the water run down my back a few minutes more, before stepping out of the stall. After drying off and dressing, I went into the kitchen, and sat down at the table, a cup of coffee already waiting for me upon arrival. I could hear the water running again, and assumed Al had taken my vantage point in the bathroom. To my surprise, he wasn't long, and was soon sitting in front of me, fully dressed and running a brush through his matted hair.

My mug was empty now, and I stood to pour myself a second cup and one for Al as well. He accepted it with a quiet smile, his eyes catching my own. We sat in silence for a short while, my eyes straying to the clock every so often.

His voice broke through the quiet kitchen suddenly, and I was caught off by the tone he spoke with.

"A couple of nights ago…I had this dream." His eyes had finally left mine, now searching for solace in his mug. "I used to have it nearly every night, but that was almost three years ago."

"Al-"

"It's a foul cycle. I'll go months as if it never happened, as if the memory had left me for good. But without warning he'll come back to me, and each time it seems harder and harder to drive him away again."

I faltered, unsure of what he was trying to tell me.

"I still remember his voice, rough, threatening. It seemed to rise with joy at the sound of my pain. His entire being reeked of alcohol…I'm amazed I can still drink the stuff. And he was _everywhere_. I can barely remember now how he managed to hold me down, and still touch me the way he did."

"Stop," I whispered, my voice choked with disbelief. I had vague ideas of his attack, having traced the scars that marred his skin with my own fingertips. But never had I heard him speak so openly about it.

"I tried to stop him, but he was so much stronger…and before that moment…I had never…"he stopped short, visibly shaking now. "Maybe that's why he wanted me so badly." His smile was bittersweet, his knuckles white around the coffee cup. "And he kept going, over and over and over again. Soon, I just stopped screaming. Somehow, I knew no one was coming to for me. Finally, he grew bored, without out a single word, he stood and left."

"We're gonna be late," I said, my volume growing.

"The dreams are worse. Sleep is supposed to be an escape from reality, and I just can't seem to do that. No matter how hard I try, whenever my eyes close he's there, mocking me from a memory. I just want it all to stop; I want him to leave me alone. And he does…when I'm with-"

"Please…just…Stop!" I was standing now, my body twisted with anger. He stared up at me defiantly, a challenge flickering beneath his dark orbs.

"He leaves me alone when I'm with _you_," he finished his thought from before, his voice soft with determination.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked feeling strangely defeated.

He stood, moving towards the door with the smooth grace I had almost forgotten he possessed. He didn't look at me as he spoke, his hand gripping the knob.

"We're gonna be late."

End

* * *

Poooooor Al! I'm so evil. And silly Roy just can't read between the lines. Such a man.

Please review. Please.


End file.
